


Firsts

by DarthAbby



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: First Binder, Gen, Pre-Spider Bite, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Trans Peter Parker, binders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-09 20:34:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12896265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthAbby/pseuds/DarthAbby
Summary: Peter is finally able to put on his first binder. It is, quite possibly, the best day of his life so far.





	Firsts

**Author's Note:**

> So I FINALLY saw SM:HC (I know, I'm embarrassingly late to the game) and got hit with all the trans!Peter feels. I've been meaning to write something based on my first time in a binder for a while now anyways, and this seemed like the perfect place to do it. Enjoy!

Peter took a deep breath as he studied the innocuous package on his bed. He’d been looking forward to this moment for months, and now it was here and all he could think of were all the things that could still go wrong. It might be the wrong size or color or the wrong product all together – and that was just the immediate problems! The risks he had long been drilled in thanks to the internet were still very present even with the proper equipment – a list of health concerns that sometimes seemed longer than his arm.

A police car sped past on the street below, the wailing siren jolting him out of his thoughts. He shook his head and unzipped his jacket. The sooner he opened the package, the sooner he would have an answer to some of those worries.

With his jacket over the back of his desk chair and his shirt somewhere in the general direction of the hamper, Peter carefully pulled off the sports bra that was definitely a size too small (though he had worked hard to assure Aunt May it was still fine to wear).

The tape on the box gave way easily under the scissors from his desk drawer, and then he was staring at a pale beige material. He pulled it out and held it up – it seemed small, but then, he’d never seen one in person before, so maybe that was normal?

He gave it a gentle tug, feeling the stretch, not entirely sure what he was looking for but satisfied anyways.

He took another deep breath. “Come on, Parker,” he muttered to himself. “It’s not a bomb.”

There was a brief moment around his shoulders where he felt a moment of terrifying certainty that it was too small, but then it was mostly in place and he gasped out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

The material was bunched around the top and he carefully worked it free, smoothing out the wrinkles that appeared with slightly shaking hands.

“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay, good from this angle.” He looked down, unobstructed, to his feet and gave a firm nod. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

The trip from his bedroom to the bathroom seemed to take a year and yet only a second. Muscle memory guided him to the mirror while his eyes remained glued on his feet.

“Gonna be fine,” he muttered, clenching and unclenching his fists nervously. “Gonna be… gonna be _amazing_ , yeah, gonna be amazing. Count of three; one, two, three!”

His head snapped up with the last number, meeting his own scared gaze in the mirror. He focused on his own face to begin with – familiar ground. He blinked a few times and let himself take in the whole picture.

The binder wasn’t an exact match to his skin tone, but it was pretty close, enough to blend in at a passing glance if anyone happened to see him in it. If he squinted, it almost looked like he was shirtless; just another teenage boy wandering around his own home in jeans and nothing else.

Peter swallowed, feeling hope and joy bubbling at the back of his throat, and slowly turned to the side, checking his profile.

The binder didn’t give him a completely flat chest, but he found that he wasn’t too disappointed, because it was giving him _pecs_ instead. He hadn’t thought about it, but it made sense – all that tissue had to go somewhere, and spreading it out over a wider area would, well, make him look muscular.

He grinned at himself in the mirror.

“The Amazing Peter Parker,” he whispered. “Skinny to shredded in less than a minute.” He let out a breathless laugh, unable to look away from himself in the mirror.

It had been ages since he had actually _liked_ looking in the mirror, if he ever had to begin with. He couldn’t really remember.

His hands raised slowly, as though waiting for someone to stop him, and spread out flat against his chest. It didn’t feel as firm as pure muscle, but it wasn’t an obvious squish into fatty tissue, either.

Peter laughed again, grinning at himself. His hands were resting – not pressing, _resting_ completely flat against his chest.

The mirror started to blur a little, and he realized he was tearing up. He dropped his hands to lean against the counter, grinning widely as he looked and saw no dip of cleavage, no matter how far over he leaned or how much he hunched his shoulders.

He dropped his head to look down at the sink, still smiling, and laughed again when a few tears dropped onto the lenses of his glasses. He took them off and wiped his forearm over his eyes. He’d heard about happy crying before, but he’d never actually witnessed it, let alone had done it himself.

Today, it seemed, was a day for firsts.

The front door to the apartment opened, and a familiar voice called out.

“Peter? You home yet?”

“Uncle Ben!” Peter said, hurriedly putting his glasses back on. “I – I – look!” He skidded out into the living room, arms spread wide.

Ben beamed as he took in his nephew, smiling wider then he had in years and finally looking a bit more comfortable in his own skin. “You look great, Pete,” he said warmly, hanging up his jacket and walking over to pull Peter into a hug. “I’m so happy for you.”

Peter wrapped his arms around Ben, holding him tightly and still smiling into his shoulder. “Thanks,” he said.

Aunt May was just as pleased when she got home not long after, and Ben declared it to be a night of celebration. He moved about the kitchen with ease, chipping into the conversation as he cooked, and Peter felt a warm sense of contentment spread through him.

He was so caught up in their little bubble of joy, he almost forgot to have them sign the permission slip for the field trip to Oscorp Labs next week. Almost.

But Peter wasn’t about to miss out on that – he’d been looking forward to it for ages. And now, he could even wear his binder to it.


End file.
